


Mr. Potter One-Shots

by InLoveWithForever



Series: Mr. Potter AU [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Rare Pair, SO MUCH FLUFF, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-03-07 23:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18883069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLoveWithForever/pseuds/InLoveWithForever
Summary: One-shots, outtakes, and drabbles within the Mr. Potter alternate universe.





	1. Meet the Family Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I'm now on tumblr as [inlovewithforever](https://inlovewithforever.tumblr.com/). My asks are open to prompts, not just in this AU, but in general. So, if there's an outtake from S&S you'd like to see (I swear I'm working on the sequel, I'm just trying to get a bunch of chapters written before I start posting) or a one-shot from a different pairing, feel free to either send me an ask there or leave something in a review here. I'm pretty much open to any Hermione-centric pairing or relationship except Ron/Hermione. Prompts would honestly make my day, since sometimes working on something different winds up inspiring my other writing and actually makes me more productive :) And if you don't have prompts, I'd still love to chat!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Hermione stepped from the fireplace, brushing soot from her trousers with sweaty, ever-so-slightly trembling fingers.

No amount of deep breathing had been able to quell her nerves, not entirely. This wasn’t any regular Sunday dinner at Potter Manor, no. This was the first Sunday dinner since Harry and Sirius had found out about her and James, the first Sunday since there was a _her and James_ to find out about.

One perfect week since she had followed James home. One week, and they’d spent more of their evenings after work together than not.

On Tuesday, they’d eaten Chinese and christened her new sofa. Twice. Wednesday, James had prepared a picnic dinner that they’d enjoyed in the meadow on the eastern edge of the Potter property that jutted up to a small lake. They’d departed from the more obvious romantic overtures on Friday, and had ventured into Muggle London for a vicious game of laser tag followed by greasy takeaway. Saturday had, of course, been spent in bed and the rest of James's bedroom, the list of surfaces they had yet to shag on somehow seeming to grow rather than dwindle. It was a wonder she wasn’t walking funny.

One amazing week, and other than Sirius and Harry, no one else knew.

Tonight, that would change.

James stood in front of the fireplace, fingers drumming against the front of his thighs. The knit of his brow softened when he saw her, his lips curling at the corners as he reached out, fingers spreading to make room for hers. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She bit back the ridiculous grin that threatened to overtake her face each time he looked at her like that, looked at her like that without trying to hide it. Ignoring his outstretched hands, she instead stepped forward into his arms and breathed deep, shivering as gooseflesh broke out along her skin. It was profoundly unfair for a man to look that handsome _and_ smell amazing.

A hand pressed against her back and slid upward, warm fingers cupping the nape of her neck. She tilted her head, lips parting as James lowered to—

“Ahem.”

She froze, face heating as she peeked over James’s shoulder.

An exasperated-looking Harry sat on the couch, eyes narrowed. He gave her a wry little wave before crossing his arms.

“Harry, hi. I didn’t see you there.” She stepped back, or well, she _tried_ to step back, except James didn’t quite let her. Instead, he swooped down, brushing his lips against her cheek before straightening and shooting Harry a mock glare, one brow raised.

Harry’s lips quirked to the side. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

It was still awkward—not that anything could top the awkwardness of the morning after Harry had found out—but he was taking it in stride. And she and James were trying to be respectful of the entire situation, specifically Harry’s feelings regarding the whole thing, keeping the most obvious displays of affection to a minimum in his presence without going so far as to hide them altogether.

It had only been a week. This, between them, their relationship, was new. It would take time for everyone to get used to, the switch from her being strictly Harry’s friend, to being that, plus his father’s girlfriend. At least Harry had quit fake-retching every time James had kissed her.

She cleared her throat. “So. Am I the first to arrive, or…?”

James shook his head, gesturing to the door on the other side of the room. “Sirius is in the kitchen. Remus floo'd earlier and said he and Tonks might be running late. She’s a bit under the weather, apparently. Must be that nasty bug going around the Ministry.”

“Maybe we should postpone,” she suggested, palms going damp once more.

James wrapped an arm around her waist, tucking her into his side. “You aren’t nervous, are you?”

Her stomach had lodged itself inside her throat early this morning and refused to settle back where it belonged. Not because she didn’t want anyone to know—she wanted _everyone_ to know, at least everyone who mattered—but, how would they take it? She couldn’t care less what just anybody thought, but their friends who were practically family? Of course, she cared.

With Sirius, it had been like ripping off a plaster. Sure, it had been uncomfortable in its own right--she couldn't look at that pair of knickers without wanting to apparate far, far away where no one knew her name-- but they hadn’t _truly_ had to tell him seeing as he’d discovered it on his own. It would be different, sitting across the table from Remus and Tonks and saying the words.

Perhaps it was because she valued Remus’s opinion—not that she _didn’t_ value Sirius’s— and wanted him to hold her in high regard, too, a remnant of him having been her professor for seven years. Sirius had revealed the existence of their bet, suggesting Remus was generally amenable to the thought of her dating one of his best friends, but the idea of potentially _not_ passing muster was—she swallowed over the dragon-egg-sized lump in her throat—terrifying. A fear made all the more complex considering how Remus still got on well with Lily.

Not that Remus _shouldn’t_ get on well with Harry’s mum; they were friends, had been since school. And Lily had been perfectly nice to her on the few occasions when they’d met over the years, like that one time in Diagon Alley when Lily had taken Harry shopping for school supplies instead of James. Perfectly friendly. Really. But now it was…well, it was _complicated_.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, teeth worrying the inside of her cheek. Why was this so much scarier than confronting James had been? Then again, it had been hard to misread his kiss.

Harry stood and jerked a thumb at the kitchen door. “I’m just going to go check and see how dinner’s coming.”

James nodded. “Make sure Sirius hasn’t burned down the kitchen yet, will you?”

As soon as Harry was gone, James turned her in his arms and dropped his palms to her hips, holding her still and steady. “Hey. What’s wrong? Are you having second thoughts about—”

“No! Nothing like that.” Not at all. “I just”—she coughed lightly—“I want them to like me is all.”

James blinked down at her, face carefully blank. “Erm, Hermione, they already know you.”

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t mean it like that. “I know that. I want them to like _me_ , not me as a former student or me as Harry’s friend, but as your—”

“Girlfriend?” James grinned, grip tightening around her hips, the span of his hands so large his fingers grazed the curve of her rear.

The riot inside her stomach transformed, anxious churning replaced with fluttering. She lifted her hands to his chest, fingers smoothing the wrinkles in his shirt, and nodded. “As your girlfriend.”

James tugged her closer, no longer bothering to hide the fact that he was palming her arse. “Have I mentioned lately how much I like the sound of that?”

His voice had dropped, taken on an edge that made her squirm inside, her insides turning to goo as she knotted her fingers in his shirt, wrinkling it worse than before.

“Only a dozen times or so.” Her breath had quickened, her words as airy as his were rough. 

His chest rumbled when he hummed, making her toes curl inside her flats. “Not often enough then.”

A hand snaked its way into her hair, drawing her head back. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed against hers, hot and firm, his tongue tracing the bow of her upper lip. She groaned when he pulled away, his nose nudging hers as he skimmed his lips across her cheek, then her jaw, finally the hollow beneath her ear. “They already love you.”

She shivered. “Yeah?”

James nodded, pulling back until she could see his eyes, solemn behind his lenses. “I promise.” His lips curved into a smile. “If anything, they might like you better than they like me.”

She scoffed. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“You underestimate your appeal,” he murmured, leaning back in, lips brushing hers.

That time, she melted into the kiss and he let her. His teeth skimmed over the swell of her bottom lip, pressure with a subtle sting causing her to shiver and twist her fingers into his shirt tighter, which in turn made him smirk against her mouth, enjoying the effect he had on her too much.

Two could play that game.

Tracing the tip of her tongue against the edge of his upper lip, Hermione pressed herself closer when he opened his mouth and flicked his tongue against hers. Before he could gain the upper hand, she closed her lips around the tip of his tongue and sucked.

James groaned, hips rocking, his cock making itself known against her stomach.

Victory was sweet and tasted an awful lot like wintergreen toothpaste.

“Gods, Hermione, I want—”

The roar of the Floo had them skittering apart, a comical amount of distance between them as she stumbled, feet catching on the rug and sending her arse over kettle. The couch broke her fall, thankfully.

James turned, quickly adjusting himself before pivoting back to the fireplace where Tonks had stepped through the green flames, followed by Remus.

“Wotcher, James,” Tonks greeted, leaning up on the tips of her toes to hug him around the neck. She plopped back down to the flats of her feet and stepped further into the room, smiling when she spotted Hermione. “Hermione, how’ve you been, love?”

She tucked a curl behind her ear and rolled her lips together. Her mouth still tingled, the taste of James lingering on her lips. Hopefully, she didn’t look _too_ thoroughly snogged. She could've eaten something spicy, right? Capsaicin was a reasonable explanation. She bit back a wince. “Good, and you? James mentioned you were feeling a bit under the weather?”

Tonks shrugged a shoulder, her lobbed hair swaying against her jaw. It was mousy brown at the moment, her natural color, a rare sight. That bug must've been worse than they'd thought. “I’m fine. Now I’m really just starved.”

“Dinner should be just about ready, assuming your cousin hasn’t ruined it,” James said.

“You let Sirius cook dinner? _Our_ Sirius?” Remus asked, eyes widening. “What were you thinking?”

James rolled his eyes. “He insisted, actually kicked me out of my own kitchen. It’s his new hobby, cooking. He’s taking culinary classes.”

Remus sighed. “There’s a girl, isn’t there?”

“There’s a girl.” James nodded.

“There’s always a girl.” Tonks laughed. “And when there isn’t a girl—”

“There are _many_ girls,” Remus finished, rolling his eyes at Sirius's notorious womanizing.

“Let’s just hope my cousin hasn’t poisoned us all in the name of getting lucky, yeah?” Tonks shrugged and led the way into the kitchen.

Shooting her a quick smile, James followed, leaving her and Remus to bring up the rear.

She took a deep breath, stupid nerves returning. “How are you doing, Remus? Start of term going well?”

Remus sighed, sending her a wan-looking smile. “Tired, but good. I have to say, it’s rather odd not seeing you and Harry in class. I keep expecting to see your hand in the air. Your enthusiasm is sorely missed and it's not just me who feels that way.”

Not the picture she was hoping to paint tonight, a former student. She smiled tightly. “Right. Certainly a change. But change can be good.”

Like the sort of change where someone transitioned from star pupil to best mate's girlfriend.

Remus inclined his head, chuckling softly. “Definitely.”

Hopefully, he'd be as amenable post-announcement.

The kitchen was, surprisingly, not the disaster zone any of them were expecting. In fact, the place was in perfect order—the counters were pristine, the stove was spotless, and the table was set exactly as etiquette dictated. A heady aroma of roast beef and root vegetables filled the air, making her stomach rumble, though not quite as loudly as Tonks’s.

“Merlin, Sirius,” Remus said, eyes wide as he took in the spread. “This looks fantastic.”

James nodded. “It really does.”

Sirius cut his eyes and set his hands on his hips. He was wearing a light pink apron with appliqued hearts and the words _kiss the cook_ embroidered in the middle. Flour dusted his cheek like warpaint, a sprinkle caught in the coarse, dark hair of his beard. “You say it like you’re surprised.”

“Because we are,” James said. “I was expecting you to have burnt _something_.”

With a toss of his hair, Sirius scoffed. “Bon appetite, arseholes.”

The tradition of Sunday dinners at Potter Manor had started back in the summer following fourth year after Harry had invited her to spend part of the summer with him. Or, rather, her addition to the tradition had begun then. As always, Hermione sat between Harry and James. Tonight, the seating arrangement felt more meaningful, telling.

“This is really great, Sirius,” Tonks complimented, mouth full. “Honest.”

Sirius snapped his fingers. “Bugger. I almost forgot the wine.”

“Oh— _ow_.” Remus jolted, sitting up straight. “None for me, Pads.”

“Me neither,” Tonks said.

“What?” Sirius huffed. “It’s a nice vintage and it pairs perfectly with the roast I _labored_ over. Hours spent tenderizing and seasoning and searing and—and _roasting_. You have to have to glass.”

“I don’t, actually.” The roots of Tonks’s hair turned bubblegum pink, the cheery color spreading down her strands, ombre until her whole head had transformed.

A gasp slipped out before she could slap a hand over her mouth. Tonks wasn’t _sick_ , definitely not with some bug going around the Ministry. “Are you—?”

Tonks grinned.

“Is she what?” Sirius’s brow furrowed.

“Men.” Tonks rolled her eyes before setting a hand on Remus’s arm. “Love?”

Remus cleared his throat. “Dora and I have an announcement.”

“ _Oh_.” James chuckled beneath his breath.

Not entirely clueless, then.

Sirius and Harry both still looked confused. “Well, out with it, then,” Sirius demanded.

Remus smiled at his plate. “We’re—”

“Having a baby!” Tonks yelled.

“Congratulations.” Her cheeks hurt for how wide she was smiling.

James nodded. “Congratulations. I can’t think of two people who will make better parents, honestly.”

Remus ducked his chin, clearing his throat lightly before lifting his head and shooting James a crooked smile. “Thanks, Prongs. That means everything coming from you.”

“Congrats, you two,” Harry said, clapping Remus on the back.

Sirius gaped at them. “You—you knocked up my cousin?”

Tonks snorted.

“We’re married, Pads.” Remus rolled his eyes. “And we planned for this, so no, I didn’t _knock_ _up your cousin_.”

Sirius shook his head, mouth curling into a dangerous grin. “We’re gonna have a Mini Moony.”

“We’re not calling not calling my kid Mini Moony.” Remus groaned.

Sirius scoffed. “And why not? We call Harry Prongslet.”

“ _You_ call Harry that,” Remus said.

“Moony junior?”

“No.”

“Pup?” Sirius asked.

“Absolutely not.”

Sirius sighed. “You’re no fun.”

While Sirius and Remus continued to bicker, she turned, catching James’s eye. He smiled, causing her stomach to somersault.

“As Dogfather, I should be able to call the kid whatever I damn well please,” Sirius said, thumping his fist against the table.

Tonks whistled. “ _Awk_ ward.”

Sirius gasped, clutching his chest. “No.”

Remus winced. “Actually, we were thinking we’d ask James.”

“My heart,” Sirius sputtered. “Broken, just like that.”

“Really?” James grinned. “You want me to be Godfather?”

“Stag father. Deer father.” Sirius muttered under his breath. “Just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“I’d—I’d be honored, Remus.” James nodded. “Thank you.”

Sirius poked petulantly at his roast. “He’s already got a kid.”

Remus laughed. “Settle down and have one yourself, then, Pads.”

“Barking up the wrong tree, Moony.” Sirius turned, eyes flitting from her to James and back again. A devilish smirk tugged at his lips. “Why doesn’t Prongs have another sprog, eh? Give Harry here a baby brother or sister.”

Harry choked on his bite of food, sputtering into his hand. “Sorry. Wrong pipe.”

Studiously ignoring everyone’s eyes, she counted her peas, carefully scooping up exactly thirteen.

“Who’s Dogmother, then?” Sirius asked. “Sorry, _Godmother_.”

“Well.” Tonks leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “We were thinking we’d ask Hermione.”

Peas scattered across the crisp white tablecloth when she dropped her spoon. “Me?”

Tonks chuckled. “Do you know another Hermione?”

“No, but I didn’t think you’d— _really_?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

That was—huge. An honor. That they’d even considered her, let alone made her their final choice was—Gods, she bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t cry.

Remus looped an arm around Tonks’s shoulders and nodded, smiling softly from across the table. “We’re sure. There’s no one we’d rather pick.”

Her vision blurred and—oh bugger, she _was_ going to cry. “I’d love to.”

She sniffled, just once, and suddenly there was an arm around her, drawing her in for a hug. Sandalwood and spice. James. She melted into it, let him tuck her head beneath his chin and hold her close while she reigned in her emotions.

Someone cleared their throat and—Gods. She jolted, sitting up straight.

Across the table, Tonks and Remus were staring at them with wide eyes, their mouth hanging open.

Sirius drummed his fingers against the edge of the table, grinning impishly as he bounced in his seat like a kid on Christmas morning. “Say something Prongs or I will.”

James let his head drop back before rolling it to the side, meeting her eyes. He lifted a brow, lips curling. “Yeah?”

Now or never. Though, it was a little strange following Remus’s and Tonks’s momentous news with this. She nodded.

“Hermione and I are—”

Remus groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “ _No_.”

Her stomach plummeted. No?

“This is terrible,” Remus muttered.

She tightened her grip on James’s hand, strangling his fingers.

James cleared his throat, shooting her a tense smile before leaning forward and whispering, “What the hell’s your problem, Remus?”

Remus huffed and reached into his pocket, grabbing something before flinging it across the table at Sirius. “God damn you, Padfoot.”

Sirius cackled maniacally and reached for the—

“Is that money?” she asked. Light glinted off the gold and silver coins scattered across the table.

“My winnings?” Sirius nodded. “I told you.”

All eyes on him, Remus sighed and pinned her and James with an aggrieved stare. “You couldn’t have waited? Just three months?”

“Unlikely,” she muttered, face heating.

Tonks snorted. “Best choice for Godmother, _ever_.”

“You’re—” she cleared her throat. “You’re really okay with this?”

Remus frowned. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well, because I’m—”

Nineteen? Harry’s best friend? Remus’s former student? Perhaps any of the stupid reasons James had tried to use just last week?

Tonks arched a brow and Remus, well, he had the audacity to smirk.

“Never mind.” Wine would’ve been lovely right about now.

“So.” Tonks leaned forward. “How’d this happen? Spare no detail; tell me _everything_.”

Sirius waggled his brows. “Yeah, Hermione, tell them _everything_.”

Harry shuddered. “Let’s not.”

Completely ignoring him, Tonks plowed on. “Let me guess—you had to knock some sense into him? That’s what I had to do with this one.” She elbowed Remus who rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Stubborn, aren’t they? Especially when they don’t know what’s good for them, yeah?”

Relaxing, she nodded. “Something like that.”

“Hey.” James rested an arm over her shoulder, glaring playfully, lips twitching. “I resent that remark.”

“Mate.” Sirius sighed. “You resemble that remark.”

Even Harry laughed.

“All’s well that ends well,” James said, fingers brushing against the skin beneath her sleeve.

Her stomach swooped. Merlin, she’d worked herself up into a tizzy for nothing.

“Now all you have to do is tell everyone else.” Sirius ticked off on his fingers. “The Weasleys, Minnie, Hermione’s parents.” He smirked. “Piece of cake, yeah?”

She looked at James, his smile wavering, no doubt mirroring hers.

Piece of cake, her arse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up-- Meet the Family Part 2: The Weasleys
> 
> Thanks for reading! And again, I'm on tumblr as [inlovewithforever](https://inlovewithforever.tumblr.com/).


	2. Meet the Family Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long-time, no see! I'm back with another little slice of life for Hermione and James, this time featuring a whole slew of characters including all the Weasleys. I hope you enjoy!

_Stupid, bloody earring_.

Not that it was really the fault of her jewelry that Hermione couldn’t focus well enough to get the post through her lobe, not when James was doing _that_ , driving her to distraction with his— _oh,_ his mouth was criminal.

Before she wound up with a fresh piercing, she gave up and then she gave in, dropping her earring to the nightstand with a clatter. She let her head loll back against James’s shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut, succumbing to the way he made her feel, as if she were made for this, being touched by him.

James laughed against the side of her throat, recognizing her surrender for what it was. His breath fanned hot against her skin as his tongue darted out, soothing the sting of his teeth. For all the things he deserved to be cocky about, this was one, his ability to reduce her to a gasping, writhing, wanting mess second to none.

“Quit distracting me.” She hummed, inhaling sharply when he sucked at the juncture of where her shoulder met her neck. “Or—or else—”

“Or what?” he asked, his tone practically daring her to finish her sentence.

“Or else we’ll never make it there on time.”

One arm banded around her waist, drawing her further back onto the bed, rumpling the sheets he’d made an hour ago. Sheets _they_ had rumpled last night and again this morning. _Twice_.

“Let’s skip it,” he murmured, his voice a delicious rasp against the shell of her ear. Maybe it was the vibrato of his words, his chest rumbling against her back, or perhaps it was the knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, that James Potter was desperate to keep her in his bed, but the deepening of his voice never failed to turn her insides to mush. As if that weren’t enough, he began trailing kisses down her neck, his fingers slipping the strap of her dress off her shoulder, exposing more of her skin for his lips and teeth to explore.

“Tempting, but—”

James’s hand disappeared beneath the skirt of her dress, his fingers inching the fabric upward. Her breath hitched when his thumb swept against the side of her knee, his warm palm sliding up her thigh.

He paused at the juncture of where her leg met her body, fingers grazing the side of her knickers. “No _buts_ , love. We can stay in. Order Thai from that place you like.” He rolled his hips, his cock hard against her bum. “And I can have you for dessert.”

Her pulse skipped then stutter-started, her mouth going Sahara dry when his teeth scraped her skin. She licked her lips. “You make a compelling argument, but if I—mm, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were nervous.”

His hand stilled, his lips freezing against the ball of her shoulder. “Me? Nervous? Never.”

“ _James_.”

A quiet puff of laughter escaped his nose and tousled her curls, ticking her neck. “Fine. I might be. Just a tad.”

He wasn’t the only one.

The plan, the _original_ plan, had been to tell everyone straight away. Neither of them was very good at acting or keeping secrets, and really, why wait? But then she’d been assigned a truly fascinating case studying the—potential—non-linear principles of time, a case that had nearly doubled her workload, her forty-hour workweek turning into sixty, _seventy_ hours spent in a research room far below ground inside the DoM. When she wasn’t working, all she wanted to do was spend her precious little free time exploring their relationship, getting to know the parts of James not everyone was privy to, not everyone was lucky enough to know.

One thing led to another and before she knew it, a month and a half had passed since they’d told Remus and Tonks and somehow, without meaning to, they’d managed to accidentally build up telling everyone else until it became a _thing_ , a weighty thing that carried with it an immense amount of pressure. Obviously, they were overthinking it, she knew that on a logical level, but tell that to her nerves. She could just picture Molly Weasley with literal steam pouring out of her ears…

Hers and Molly’s history was…fraught, to say the least. Perhaps it was because Hermione was an only child, or maybe it was due to her maturity, or simply her mum and dad’s permissive parenting style, but Hermione had never been _treated_ much like a child. Not until she met Mrs. Weasley. Even at twelve years old, she hadn’t taken kindly to some strange woman, a kind woman but still a stranger, bossing her around and staring at her with suspicion, as if she were inherently some sort of troublemaker for no reason other than her age, something she couldn’t very well help. The distrust had grated, Molly’s unwelcome—even if well-intentioned—mothering, rankling. Thankfully, the older they all got, the more Molly had been willing to loosen her apron strings by small measures. Naturally, they’d spent less time at the Burrow, instead relishing the relative freedom offered at Potter Manor where James had ventured to treat all of them as equals.

Still, there would always be a part of Molly that couldn’t help but condescend to anyone under the age of thirty. Hermione could only imagine what Molly’s reaction would be when she discovered that not only would Hermione not fulfill the woman’s farfetched fantasy of marrying one of her sons, but that she was dating Harry’s father of all people.

Nerves aside, they’d agreed that come hell or high water, tonight was the night they’d tell everyone who didn’t already know. Everyone in their ragtag bunch would be gathered together for Molly’s mandatory monthly feast and hopefully they’d all be in high spirits. Yes, it was _more_ than time. She was tired of keeping this— _them_ — a secret, even it was a poorly kept one.

_“Is his—” Ginny made a lewd gesture, sliding her fist up what Hermione was certain wasn’t meant to be a broomstick— “you know. Is it big?”_

_Hermione’s face flamed. “Ginny!”_

_“Stop acting coy. It’s silly and you can’t fool me. For Merlin’s sake, I caught you leaving his bedroom, Hermione.” Ginny chided. “I’m just wondering if it’s—what’s the word? It’s Muggle…something about pants…jeans? Oh bollocks, whatever. Inherited. Because Harry doesn’t just have a trouser snake, he’s got a trouser anaconda, if you follow.” She smirked, tongue flickering between her lips. “Harry’s not the only Parselmouth, if you catch my drift.”_

_That_ had been a mortifying conversation as Ginny had not only revealed _far_ more about one of Hermione’s best friends than she’d _ever_ wanted to know but had also pried it out of her that yes, James was…well-endowed.

Ginny had taken news of their relationship well—almost _too_ well— but something in Hermione’s gut niggled, cautioning her to remember that not everyone might be as openminded. Ultimately, if people couldn’t accept it, well, tough luck for them. It wouldn’t change how she felt about James. Nothing would.

She sunk her teeth into her lip. “If you want to wait—"

“No!” James nuzzled the side of her neck, spooning her the way they often slept, his thighs tucked up tight behind hers, his hand splayed against her belly. “I want to tell them. Just…God love her but Molly’s a bit of a harpy on a good day and I can only imagine the tongue lashing she’ll have in store for me once she finds out I’ve been…well, you know.”

Hermione couldn’t help but tease him. “Shagging me six ways from Sunday? Perhaps I’m wrong but I don’t think Mrs. Weasley requires _that_ level of detail, James.”

She shrieked when he pinched her thigh. “Don’t be cheeky, Hermione. You know what I mean. She’s going to assume the worst, think I—I _defiled_ you or _seduced_ you like some sort of dastardly cradle-robbing lecher.”

Hermione smothered her grin against the sheets. That couldn’t have been further from the truth, but it painted an interesting picture, one she might not mind giving further consideration to. Roleplay wasn’t something they’d explored, but she _did_ still own her Hogwarts uniform… “Seduced me, hmm? Like you’re trying to right now, Mr. Potter?”

James nipped the lobe of her ear and grinned against her cheek when she whimpered. “ _Trying,_ Miss Granger _?”_

His fingers flirted with the edge of her rapidly dampening knickers.

“Hey Dad, are you and Hermione about ready to—oh sweet Merlin, are you kidding me? _My eyes_.”

Hermione snapped her legs shut and rolled away…straight off the edge of the mattress, her knees smacking the floor. The impact of the wood against her joints reverberated through her bones, rattling her teeth. _Ow_. She’d have bruises for sure.

James ducked his head over the side of the bed, his hazel eyes wide behind his crooked glasses. “Are you okay?”

She muttered, “ _yes_ ” just as Harry groaned out a pitiful, “ _no_.”

With far more grace she’d managed, James popped over the side of the bed, chuckling awkwardly beneath his breath as he reached down, helping her stand. He offered her a wry grin before turning back to where Harry stood in the open door to James’s bedroom, one hand clasped over his eyes.

“Sorry. We’re, uh, ready as we’ll ever be.”

Harry glared through the crack between his fingers. “Look. I think I’ve been a pretty good sport about all of this but you have to meet me halfway here, Dad, and that means closing the door so I don’t have to see you with your hand—”

“Harry James Potter, you aren’t even wearing your glasses right now!” She stifled a laugh at the way Harry’s face turned red. “Fuzzy as I’m sure your vision is, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

He dropped his hand and cut his eyes. “I’m calling foul. This is awkward enough without you using your mum voice.”

Her face flamed. “I don’t _have_ a mum voice.”

Harry smirked. “The only thing keeping it from being a mum voice is you not yet being a mum, Hermione.”

She crossed her arms, struggling in vain not to squirm. “Stop changing the subject.”

“I’m not _blind_. I can see shapes and outlines and last night I could hear plenty.” His face screwed up. “Even if I wish I couldn’t.”

James snorted.

“It’s not funny. It’s one thing to know you two are…” He made a vague gesture between them, scrunching his nose. “But it’s something else entirely to hear it. I think I might be traumatized.” Harry gave a vicious shiver and frowned, his green eyes flaring wide as he managed to look terribly wounded.

James let his hand fall to her hip. “Traumatized. For Merlin’s sake, you’re spending too much time with Sirius. He’s turning you into a drama queen.” His lips twitched. “As for hearing, I’ve half a mind to owl Flitwick because _you_ can’t cast a silencing charm to save your life. Unless you want to tell me Ginny’s _that_ enthusiastic about gobstones? Fool me once, Harry.”

The crests of Harry’s cheeks went scarlet as he guppied for a moment before turning on his heel and fleeing the room.

James chuckled quietly. “Think he’ll pay me back for that one?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

***

Before she could even spell the soot from her dress, Molly gripped her arm and hauled her into the dining room. “So happy you could make it, Hermione.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss…” It wasn’t until Molly passed Hermione’s usual spot beside Ginny that she realized something was amiss. “Mrs. Weasley, I usually sit—”

“Yes, yes, but I’ve saved a _special_ spot for you right”—Molly yanked her around the table, past Fred and George who wore matching wicked grins— “here. Beside Charlie. Charlie, say hello to Hermione.”

Ron’s older brother shifted, lips curling in a sly smile. “’lo, Hermione.”

Molly shoved her into the seat, scooting the chair a smidge closer to her son. “Go on. Tell her the good news.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and rested one strapping, scarred forearm on the back of her chair as he pivoted, knees knocking hers. “Mum’s beside herself because I’m moving back to England permanently. Actually, Wales, but—”

“No need to bother with international portkeys, anymore. You’ll be just a Floo trip away!” Molly flapped her hands, gesturing between the two of them with undisguised glee. “I’ll leave you two to talk amongst yourselves. Get to know each other a little better. Seeing as you’re both single and—”

Across the table, Remus coughed loudly into his napkin. “Sorry. I, uh, I had a tickle.”

Molly shook her head, red curls swinging against her neck. “Well drink something, Remus.”

She tutted and turned, apron flapping as she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Hi Remus.” She shot him a smile that hopefully communicated how grateful she was for his interruption. “Tonks. How are you both?”

Tonks sipped her pumpkin juice and shrugged, waffling her head from side to side. “You know.”

She did. Well, not like _that_ , not firsthand, but she knew what Tonks meant. Just like she and James had yet to tell everyone they were together, Remus and Tonks hadn’t shared their good news, either. What they were waiting for—the right moment maybe or perhaps a little further into the pregnancy— she wasn’t sure, but if they could keep a secret, so could she.

Her eyes drifted further down the table to where James had settled in beside Harry who was seated beside Ginny. Ron was seated beside his sister, Arthur bringing up the head of the table. Next to Remus sat a smirking Sirius and on Tonks’s other side was Fleur, and beside her Bill, and finally Percy, leaving the empty spot across from Arthur for Molly.

James frowned, eyes skipping from her to Charlie and back. She rolled her eyes, earning a quick quirk of his lips.

“Mum’s matchmaking knows no bounds, it seems.” She jerked in her seat, Charlie’s lips brushing the shell of her ear. Good Merlin, he was close, his hulking frame practically looming over her.

She scooted a little to the left and laughed. “Seems to be the case.”

Across the table, James’s lips flattened, his frown transforming into an outright glower as he glared at where Charlie’s hand was now resting on her shoulder.

“So, Wales.” Hermione gave a quick, inconspicuous shimmy, shaking off his hand. “Working with, erm, Welsh Greens, I imagine?”

Charlie grinned. “Sure am. You like dragons?”

Not so much _like_ as have a healthy respect for. She shrugged. “Um, as much as the next girl, I suppose?”

Sirius snorted into his glass of firewhisky.

Molly bustled back into the dining room holding several precariously balanced serving dishes. “Well go on. What are you all waiting for? Dig in. Eat!”

If possible, the noise level in the dining room ratcheted up further, dishes clanking, silverware clinking, and voices rising. Charlie passed her the potatoes. “So, what have you been up to lately? Besides the obvious.”

She frowned. “The obvious?”

Charlie grinned. “Driving wizards mad with lust.”

Her jaw dropped, words failing her. Charlie was a flirt, but this was _blatant._ “No one’s wound up in St. Mungo’s yet, so I’d hardly say I’ve driven anyone _mad_.”

Her eyes flickered to where James was glaring at Charlie, his lips pressed together in a scowl as he rucked up the sleeves of his cream-colored, cable-knit jumper to his elbows, baring his deliciously chiseled forearms. She blinked twice and tore her eyes away before she could do something daft like drool. If anyone was in danger of going mad with lust, it was her. “And to answer your question, work, mostly.”

Charlie’s fingers grazed the back of her hand as he handed her the salad bowl next. “Oh?”

She hummed and stole another glance at James. His jaw was clenched, the muscle beneath his ear jumping as he scowled at Charlie. “Mhmm.”

“And what’s that entail?”

“A little of this and a little of that.”

Sirius leaned forward, lips curling dangerously. “Unspeakable, kid. She can’t tell you, or else she’ll have to kill you.”

“Sirius, be reasonable,” Remus chided. He shifted, aiming a congenial smile at Charlie. A congenial smile if there hadn’t been so much…teeth. “Hermione wouldn’t kill you. She’d _obliviate_ you.”

Tonks pressed her napkin to her mouth, her eyes flashing a cheery sunshine yellow.

Much to her chagrin, Charlie ran the pad of his thumb along the edge of his lower lip, leering. “A dangerous woman. I like that.”

Hermione choked, spraying pumpkin spittle halfway across the table.

Charlie was right there, napkin at the ready, one hand rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. He tsked gently, lips twitching with poorly concealed laughter. “Hasn’t anyone else told you you’re supposed to swallow, love?”

“ _Charlie Weasley_.” The back of her hand connected with his stupidly solid chest. Ouch. What in the world did they feed them in Romania?

His resultant laughter was boisterous, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he tossed his head back, his broad shoulders shaking. “Easy there, Hermione. I’m just having a laugh. It was a joke.”

Sirius scowled. “Not a very funny one.”

Charlie’s tongue poked against the side of his cheek. “Tough crowd tonight.”

One look at James showed that, while he couldn’t hear what happening on this end of the table, he could undoubtedly sense the tension. A deep furrow formed between his brows as he watched, his lips pressed together, a question swirling in the depth of his eyes when she met his stare.

Perhaps it would be best to nip this whole thing in the bud before the night spiraled further out of hand.

Hermione cleared her throat and caught Molly’s eye. “Mrs. Weasley—”

“Are you sleeping well, dear?” Molly cocked her head, eyes narrowing in concern. “You’re looking a bit peaky.”

Only because James had kept her awake half the night with his head buried between her thighs. Not that she was complaining.

“I’m sleeping just fine, actually.” What sleep she _was_ getting was the best sleep of her life, owed to the fact that she spent five out of seven nights in James’s plush, king-size bed spooned up against the man himself. Quality beat quantity one hundred percent of the time in her book. “That wasn’t what I—”

“You work too hard, Hermione.” Mrs. Weasley set her silverware aside and rested her elbows on the table, staring at her with the most frustrating mix of pity and condescension. “You really ought to consider your work-life balance, dear. The older you get, the harder it’s going to be to break bad habits. Not to mention, find someone, let alone a man who will put up with your dreadful work hours.”

A hazy film of red washed over her vision, the noise around her going buzzy in her ears. Reaching for her glass with a trembling hand, Hermione lifted her pumpkin juice to her mouth and chugged. If only it were something stronger.

Molly had some nerve. Hermione could work eighty hours a week and sleep beneath her desk if she damn well pleased, but Molly bloody Weasley wouldn’t even let her get a word in edgewise to explain that she _did_ have a handle on her work-life balance, thank you very much, _and_ she already had someone, someone perfectly understanding of her dedication to her research.

She slammed her glass back down and huffed. Molly had already turned and was wrapped up in a brand-new conversation, no doubt driving poor Fleur barmy if the delicate pursing of her lips was any indication.

“You’ve got a little something”—Charlie’s thumb swept against the corner of Hermione’s mouth— “right there.”

Hermione batted Charlie’s hand away and glared. Perhaps it was because he’d grown up with Molly for a mother, but the man seemed utterly impervious to her stare, his grin growing wider and brighter the longer she glowered at him.

Had she known the night would’ve been _this_ frustrating, she would’ve taken James up on his offer to stay in instead. Oh Merlin. _James_. She glanced down the table, flinching at the look on his face. If looks could kill, Charlie Weasley would’ve been deader than a doornail from the daggers James was glaring at him. Speaking of daggers, James’s grip on his knife was a little worrisome. At least it wasn’t his wand…

Hermione pushed her chair back, the legs squealing against the wooden floor. She muttered a quick excuse, “Loo. I’ll be back.”

Safely ensconced in the bathroom, Hermione locked the door and rested her palms on the cool porcelain sink, frowning at her reflection. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes dark, and her curls had taken on a life of their own. She reached for the tap, pausing with her hand on the lever when someone knocked against the door.

As expected, as soon as she cracked the door, James slid inside. Shutting the door at his back, he cast a quick _muffliato_ with a twist of his wrist and locked the door for good measure. Eyes blazing, James let his wand fall to the floor with a clatter and wrapped his hands around her waist, reversing their positions, pressing her up against the door.

“Fucking Charlie Weasley,” he grumbled, not so much kissing her neck as running his parted lips down the column of her throat, eliciting a shiver from her in response. “I could wring his neck. Wanker needs to learn to keep his hands to his bloody self.”

_“James_.” Her scolding was half-hearted at best. His lips were distracting and his wandering grip on her waist and hips was making it impossible to churn up any legitimate consternation. She gave up entirely, surrendering to her baser instincts when James lifted his head, pinning her with dark eyes, his pupils blown wide, eclipsing the hazel she loved so much. “You do realize you have nothing to be jealous of, right?”

James scoffed loudly. “Jealous? Me? Of Charlie Weasley?” He rolled his eyes, his upper lip curling. “I changed his _diapers_. No, I’m not jealous. He’s—he’s…” James froze, his brow jumping just before his eyes slipped shut, a hot flush crawling up his jaw. “Oh, I’m such a prick.”

Hermione pressed her lips together and ducked her chin, tucking her head against his shoulder. “You’re not.”

His hands swept against her sides, pressing gently and putting a bit space between their bodies, space she didn’t want. “I am.” James gave her a wobbly smile, his left eye twitching behind his crooked glasses. “I sound like a caveman, don’t I? I don’t mean to. I don’t just mean he shouldn’t touch you because you—because you’re _mine_ ; he shouldn’t touch you because anyone with two eyes and half a brain could tell it was making you uncomfortable.”

Because she didn’t _want_ anyone else touching her but James. Just James.

“You’re hardly acting like some sort of Neanderthal.” She ran her hands over the breadth of his shoulders and down his arms, squeezing gently when she reached his hands. “Or, if you are, I don’t mind it.”

Honest. Had anyone asked her if she’d have found such a display offensive two, three months ago, she’d have said yes, in theory. Hermione Granger didn’t belong to anyone, thank you very much. She was an independent witch and she didn’t need any wizard believing he could tell her what to do. But James _wasn’t_ telling her what to do. Except on those delightful occasions where he told her _exactly_ what to do, his voice a delicious purr that made her melt. _Hands on the headboard, just like that. Don’t even_ think _of moving. That’s it. Fuck, love_. _Come on. Let go._

She shivered violently and met his puzzled stare. “I can hardly fault you for being bad at sharing.”

He was an only child, after all, same as her, but no doubt he’d grown up far more entitled. She’d heard the stories. Euphemia and Fleamont had spoiled him rotten, giving him everything he’d ever wanted, turning him into rather a bit of prat until along came Harry, flipping his world upside down.

But that wasn’t what she meant. Not…completely.

Hermione flushed and looked away, staring at his scruffy jaw. “It would just be a bit hypocritical of me, is all.”

James’s fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eye. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his dark eyes were dancing with mirth. “Hypocritical, _how_?”

_Of course,_ he wanted her to say it, confess what she’d done when he himself had only _thought_ of giving Charlie a what for. “You remember Lydia? Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes?”

James nodded, nose wrinkling. “Unfortunately.”

“Well, she was being awfully loud in the Ministry canteen the other day, gossiping and making it sound as if your date over the summer went better than it had.” She fiddled with the collar of his jumper, needing something to do with her hands. “She might’ve, erm, had a bit of a magical accident. I _suppose_ you could even call it a catastrophe.”

His eyes bulged. “ _Hermione_.”

“She’s going around telling everyone you shagged her in the bathroom of the Leaky!” She shoved his shoulder lightly. “I didn’t do anything illegal. It was just a tiny hex and the woman deserves it.” James stared until she caved. “It’s nothing! Her nose grows when she lies. All she has to do is be honest and nothing will happen. And if she retracts her false statements, her nose will go back to normal. It’s hardly my fault she’s walking around looking like a proboscis monkey.”

Beneath her hands, James’s shoulders began to shake. “A _proboscis_ _monkey_?” James scrunched his eyes shut, laughter spilling from his lips. “Merlin, you’re terrifying.”

Somehow, he managed to make that sound like an endearment.

Her lips twitched. “My point is, I can hardly fault you for being a bit…possessive.”

James arched a brow. “Yeah?”

She nodded, running her hands down his chest. “Yes. I’m not offended. I _am_ yours, you know.”

James dropped his head, pressing his warm lips to her forehead and making her heart skip. “Circe. How’d I get so lucky?” He drew back, tucking a curl behind her ear before lifting her chin, raising her head to meet his shining eyes. “It’s an honor. And it’s mutual. I’m yours every bit as much as you’re mine.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip so it wouldn’t wobble. “Yes?”

James’s stare softened. “Absolutely. Isn’t it obvious? I’m mad about you. I’m…” James chuckled ruefully, lifting his hand and carding his fingers through his hair, messing it up worse than it was already. “I hadn’t exactly planned on saying it for the first time in the Weasleys’ loo, but I love you, Hermione Granger.”

Her breath caught, her whole world narrowing to this moment, to James standing in front of her, his hands cradling her face. His features blurred, her eyes going stupidly damp as a relieved sob of laughter slipped from between her lips. Thank Merlin. She hadn’t wanted to say it first. “I love you, too.”

James pressed his mouth to hers, laughing against her lips. He mumbled, “You don’t mind I said it in the loo?”

She shook her head. No. She expected she’d hear it again. And again. And again.

Though his eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed, the twist of his lips said he wasn’t completely sure. “It’s not the most romantic place, love.”

Leaning her head back against the door, Hermione smiled and trailed both hands down James’s stomach, snaking her fingers under the hem of his jumper. “I don’t need romance. I just need you.”

James’s eyes darkened, dropping to her mouth. “Merlin. You can’t say things like that.”

His skin was warm and smooth, the trail of hair beneath his naval coarse by contrast as she flirted with the waist of his denims. “What if I mean it?”

James stepped closer, wedging one knee between her legs, crowding her further against the door. “Say it again.”

She licked her bottom lip, heart racing. “I love you? I need you? I’m yours?”

“Fuck,” James growled and dropped his head, seizing her lips and stealing her breath.

One hand curved around her hip, while the other paved a dizzying path up her side, from her ribs down to the hem of her dress. His fingers flirted with the edge of the cotton, dipping low to brush the bare skin of her thigh. Shivering, Hermione pressed herself against him, her breasts mashing against his chest as his tongue swept against the roof of her mouth, swallowing her whimper.

James broke the kiss, panting softly. His thumb grazed the crease of her thigh where her leg met her body. “Want me to stop?”

He’d better not. She shook her head.

His hand inched higher, fingers curling around the band of her knickers and snapping the elastic against her hip, making her gasp at the sting. “Should I take these off?” One corner of his mouth kicked up in a naughty smirk that made her clench.  “Or maybe just pull them to the side?”

Hermione lifted her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “ _Off_. God, James, take them off.”

She opened her eyes, the muscles in her stomach going taut when James knelt before her and slid her knickers over her arse and down her thighs. She lifted her left foot, then her right, stepping out of them.

With a devilish smile, James pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee. He stood, tucking her knickers into his left pocket, his hand lingering inside his trousers, stroking himself through the fabric.

Hermione rested her hands against his shoulders, her fingers toying the with the messy waves at his nape.

James’s hand snuck back under her dress, his fingers going straight to her center and sliding through her folds. She jerked softly and he gave a quiet laugh that made her dizzy with want. “You’re soaked.”

She tried to control her voice, keep it from quivering. “ _Someone_ wound me up earlier then pressed me against a bathroom door and snogged me senseless.”

“The nerve,” James teased, circling her clit with the pads of his forefingers, making her stomach tense. He dropped his forehead to hers, nudging her nose with his. “Let me make it up to you?”

Her fingers squeezed his shoulders, nails biting into the wool of his jumper as he slid two fingers inside her and pumped them in and out, lazily. “ _James_.”

The hand pinning her hip in place shifted lower, palming her arse before sliding down her thigh, lifting her leg so she could hook it around his knee. “Yes?”

She dropped her hands, reaching for the button of his trousers. “Yes.”

Lowering his zipper, Hermione tugged the waist of his jeans and pants down his hips. His cock sprang free, hanging hard and heavy between his thighs.

Well-endowed, indeed.

James shuddered as she stroked him twice, his hand between her thighs stilling then withdrawing. “Grab my shoulders.”

She released his cock and did what he asked, curling her arms around his neck and holding tight as James lifted her against the door.

“Going to shag me against the door, Mr. Potter?” she asked, knowing exactly what calling him that did to him. His nostrils flared, his teeth sinking into the swell of his lower lip as she tightened her thighs around his waist, her heels pressing in his bum and nudging him closer.

James ground his hips against her through the fabric of her dress. “ _Fuck_. Lift your dress for me, love.”

Hermione dropped one hand to the hem of her dress, rucking the fabric up her waist, baring her cunt to James’s dark eyes. His fingers bit into her skin, squeezing her arse.

“Circe.” His eyes lifted, lips crooking adorably. “Give me a hand?”

Holding her breath, she wrapped her fingers around his length, running the head of his cock through her folds before guiding him to her entrance where, with a flex of his hips, he slipped inside, stretching her perfectly.

Gravity did the rest, her body sinking down onto him, air escaping her lungs in one punched out exhalation. The angle was just this side of too much, and she knew without even needing to check that there was more of his length that wasn’t inside her.

Teeth biting his bottom lip, James shifted his stance, gaining a bit of leverage with which to lift then lower her onto his cock.

Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging gently, the way James liked. She let her eyes slip shut, her head falling back against the door as he rocked against her, each thrust winding the knot of tension in her belly tighter and tighter, driving her closer to the edge.

“Fuck.” She pried her eyes open when he groaned. His lids were low, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth as he watched his cock disappear inside her. “You look so perfect stretched around me.”

Her nails raked against his scalp. “ _James_.”

He surged forward, capturing her mouth, making her mewl as he held her in place, pinning her against the door, the wood biting into her shoulder blades as she curved against it, arching into him.

“Are you close?” he murmured against her lips, each punched out exhale through his nose warming her cheek.

She gasped when he shifted, just so, his cock nudging someplace deep inside her, so deep it made her throat narrow and her heart stutter, her eyes crossing. “Uh huh.”

His thumbs pressed into the divots just above her hip bones, making her keen. “What do you need?” he panted. “Tell me.”

He sounded perilously close to coming, so far gone she had zero shame. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He lifted his head, his tongue darting out to lick a bead of sweat from his upper lip. “Harder?” James snapped his hips, making her whimper at the sharp, deep, never-been-this-full-before feeling. He ground his hips into her after each thrust, breathing raggedly against her cheek, his fingers spasming against her arse. “Like this?”

“Yes. _Oh_.” Hermione clung to his neck, the muscles in her thighs jumping as tried to hold on, everything inside her drawing impossibly tight.

James grunted softly and pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes were wide, wild-looking. “You’re mine, love. Say it.”

“ _Y—yours_.” Her grip tightened in his hair. “ _James_.”

The heels of her feet pressed against his arse, drawing him further into the cradle of her thighs as she fractured, vision blurring as her lashes fluttered, her cunt spasming around his cock as she came so hard her ears rang with the ferocity of blood whooshing through her head.

James bared his teeth and dropped his head back, the tendons in his neck going tight as he thrust hard into her and then went still save for the tightening of his fingers and the subtle, rhythmic pulse of his cock as he came.

Hermione’s breath was still ragged and embarrassingly uneven when James lifted his head and stared her with blurry eyes. “Guess what?”

“Hmm?” Words were a bit beyond her.

His lips quirked at the corners. “I shagged you against a wall after all,” he said, sounding proud.

She snorted softly, wincing a bit when James slid out of her. The perils of shagging somewhere other than a bed, she couldn’t keep him inside her nearly as long as she wished. “Only took you two months.”

James smacked her arse, making her yelp.

Unlocking her ankles from behind his back, Hermione slid down the door, her feet slipping against the floor. James steadied her and grinned. “Steady.”

She let her head fall forehead against his chest and breathed deep, inhaling the smell of the cedar chest he kept his jumpers in and the clean scent of his aftershave. “Don’t look so smug.”

“What on earth would I be smug for?” She could hear the smile in his voice as he ran his hands up and down her back.

Hermione lifted her head aimed a weak glower up at him from beneath her lashes. “You do realize we’ve been in the loo for at least ten minutes?”

He looked put out. “Come on. I’d say fifteen, easy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Which is to say, we’ve been gone a while. Everyone’s going to begin wondering if something’s wrong. Where are you supposed to be right now, anyway?”

“Upstairs loo.”

“Suspicious.”

He winced. “I couldn’t, perhaps, interest you in sneaking home with me?”

“And risk Sirius and Harry playing detective again?”

James laughed. “I think Harry learned his lesson the first time.” He reached out, tucking a curl behind her ear, chuckling when it sprang back. “All right then. Let’s just…tell them. No waiting for the right moment. I don’t want to wait any longer, love.”

“You just don’t want me to sit next to Charlie,” she teased.

James shook his head. “Well, maybe a little. But mostly, I want you beside me. Always.”

Her breath caught, heart racing.

He ducked his chin, fingers slotting between hers. After a moment, he lifted his chin, staring at with soft, fond eyes, the set of his jaw resolute. “I want everyone we care about to know I’m madly in love with you, and then”—his tongue swept against his lips— “I want you to move in with me. If you want.” He grinned. “You already stay over more days than not so keeping your flat’s a bit silly, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t know if you noticed, but over the last week I’ve been slowly migrating everything of mine from one side of the closet to the other…”

Her lips twitched. “I hadn’t wanted to say anything, but I wondered what you were up to.”

James squeezed her fingers, brows rising.

“Oh! Right.” She smiled. “Yes. Of course, I will.”

James chuckled and let go of one of her hands, tugging at the neck of his jumper. “Thank Merlin. You had me nervous for a minute.”

As if. Honestly. The man was barmy if he’d sincerely entertained the fear that she might say no.

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles so sweetly her knees went weak all over again. “Okay. Now that that’s settled, we should probably get out there. Face the music.” He nodded, more to himself than her.

“You go first.” She made a vague gesture below her waist. “I need to freshen up.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” he said, studying his reflection in the mirror, hands patting down his hair.

After a quick cleanup, Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. “Can I have my knickers back?”

“What knickers?” James shook his head, giving her his best _butter wouldn’t melt_ smile.

At least he’d pocketed these instead of leaving them in plain sight.

James gestured for her to step through the door first. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, Hermione looked left, then right—

Charlie Weasley practically beamed. Arms crossed, he shoved off the wall and rocked forward on his toes. “Hermione.” His eyes darted over her shoulder to where James stood, one hand still wrapped possessively around her hip. Charlie’s smile grew until she could see his molars. “And James. Fancy seeing you both here.”

“Charlie.” James stepped around her, nudging her behind him and standing straighter.

She rolled her eyes and wrapped a hand around his wrist. Men and their posturing, honestly.

“Just so you know, silencing the room is great and all, as long as you aren’t pressed up against the door. The… _jostling_ against the door jamb sort of gives it away.”

Hermione dropped her head against the back of James’s arm, burying her face in his jumper. Even James seemed to have been rendered speechless.

“You know.” She lifted her head when Charlie spoke. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve done you a _huge_ favor. Least you could do is quit your glaring.”

“A favor? Is that so?” James asked.

Charlie shrugged, turning slightly to lean one shoulder against the wall. He inspected his fingernails, lifting one hand to bite at a hangnail. “Mum was worried, wondering what was taking Hermione so long in the loo. She was about to come find her herself, but I offered.”

“I’m sure you did,” James grumbled.

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Look, mate—”

“I’m not your mate, kid.”

Charlie met her eyes over James’s shoulder. His lips twitched. “Kid? Oh, that’s rich. _Look_. I had a bit of a gut feeling, is all. Always nice to be right.”

“A gut feeling?” she asked.

Charlie shrugged, smiling broadly. “I was just having a bit of fun in there. No offense, but I’m not _actually_ interested. Mum’s a right terror, though, trying to set me up with every woman she remotely knows. I figured I could get her off my back for a bit if she thought…well.” His blue eyes bounced between her and James. “Didn’t foresee this variable. At least not until I noticed Mr. Potter here trying to _avada_ me with his eyes. I’m curious, how long exactly has _this_ been going on under everyone’s noses? And are they all oblivious, or you usually better at sneaking around?”

“Not everyone’s noses,” she argued. “Just most people. And two months?” She ignored the last question altogether.

James nodded.

Charlie’s dark red brows rose as he whistled through his teeth. “Two months and you’re _still_ shagging in loos? Merlin, must be true love.”

Her face heated, her flush deepening further when Charlie chuckled. “No shit? Really?” He reached out, clapping James on the shoulder. “Well, fuck me. Congratulations. That’s great.”

She cleared her throat. “Thank you?”

James grunted.

“Mum’s gonna have kittens, you know?” His eyes flared. “Circe’s tits, does Ron know?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t worried about Ron. No matter what anyone thought, there hadn’t been a _her and Ron_ since the summer before sixth year. No, they were just friends. He’d be shocked, sure, but it was Molly she was most concerned about. That woman didn’t merely jump to conclusions, she hurled herself off a cliff at a run and leaped to them.

“No,” James answered, his voice sounding a little less gruff. “We were— _are_ —planning on telling them tonight. Molly’s meddling threw a bit of a wrench in the plan.”

Charlie nodded slowly, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. “How about this? We’ll head back in and I’ll run interference for you.”

James frowned, eyes narrowing behind his lenses. “Meaning?”

Charlie clapped him on the shoulder once more. “Trust me, mate.”

He turned, striding off down the hall toward the dining room without so much as backward glance.

James sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

***

“Hermione. I was worried the food didn’t agree with you.”

She shook her head, lingering behind her chair as James stepped into the room through the other door. “I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley.”

“She had to see a man about a deer,” Sirius snickered.

Bill frowned, looking confused. “Isn’t it a horse? See a man about a horse?”

Molly tutted. “There’s no need to be crude, Sirius.”

Remus sputtered into his napkin.

“Honestly, Remus. Will you just drink something?” Molly chided.

Tonks’s shoulders shook as she pressed her lips together and passed a red-faced Remus her juice.

“Sit, Hermione.” Molly gestured at the chair beside Charlie who wasn’t doing much interference.

Now or never. Hermione stood straighter and met James’s eye across the room. “Actually, Mrs. Weasley, there was something I wanted to say.”

James shot her a reassuring smile and inched his way around the table.

Molly smiled, brows furrowing gently. “All right. But your food is getting cold, dear. Can it wait?”

“No,” James said, stepping closer, stopping when he was right beside her. “It really can’t, Molly.”

“Oh,” Fleur muttered from the end of the table.

“What?” Bill looked at his wife, then Hermione, his eyes darting to James before widening. “ _Oh_.”

Hermione shifted on her feet. James smiled and, without taking his eyes off of her, reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.

A fork clattered against the table. Ron gaped, his jaw hanging open. He blinked twice, head cocking to the side as his expression went reflective. “Huh. Go figure.”

“Eloquent, Ronald,” she teased, mostly because her stomach was jumping and she needed to say _something_ or else she was going to lose it waiting for Molly to speak.

“What’s everyone—” Molly spotted their clasped hands, her eyes widening. “James?”

He cleared his throat. “Hermione and I are—we’ve been seeing each other, have been for a while now, and we thought it was time we told everyone.”

Molly shook her head, looking—for perhaps the first time ever—at a loss for words.

Charlie shoved his chair back and stood. “Speaking of news, there’s something I’d like to say.” He coughed into his fist. “Mum, while I appreciate your attempts to persuade me into settling down, they might be more effective if you expanded your search to…huh, how do I put this?” He shrugged. “Blokes. And by expanding, what I really mean is, strictly blokes. I am very, _very_ gay.”

Charlie craned his neck, his gaze sliding from her to James before he gave a cheeky wink, dropping back into his chair with aplomb.

“I’m pregnant,” Tonks shouted, grabbing Remus’s hand.

Bill smiled at Fleur before turning back to the table. “We’re having a baby, too, actually.”

Fred and George shared a look, their smiles worrisome.

“You think we ought to tell them?”

“I think we should, Forge. I think we should.”

“You want to say it, Gred, or should I?”

“You've got the touch for delicate conversations, brother mine.”

George grinned. “Fred and I are expanding Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes stateside. We’re heading to New York next month.”

“For six months,” Fred added. “Oh, and Angelina and I are engaged by the way. I’m thinking we might get hitched in Vegas.”

At the head of the table, Arthur looked utterly gobsmacked as his eyes darted around the table.

Opposite him, Molly simply stared at the table, unseeing, _unblinking_. After a moment, she shook herself and stood, rounding the table and stopping behind Sirius who she smacked firmly upside the head.

“ _Ow_.” Sirius ducked, wrapping his hands protectively around his ears. “Merlin’s balls, what was that for? I didn’t say anything.”

Molly wagged her finger at him. “I know you Sirius Black and this…this… _prank_ has your stink all over it.”

“Me?” Sirius lifted a hand to his chest, looking affronted. “ _Me_? And what do you mean by _stink_?” He sniffed loudly. “Fresh as a fucking dais—ow!”

“Erm.” Hermione cleared her throat. “It’s not a prank, Molly. At least not this.” She looked up at James, who like everyone, appeared a bit shaken by the sheer number of announcements.

Molly shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

Sirius wiggled his head. “Well, actually… _ow_. Merlin’s sake! Quit hitting me, woman!”

Tonks shrugged. “Not a prank, Molly.”

Billy shook his head, Charlie, too.

Molly stumbled back to her seat, slumping down into her chair. “Oh. _Oh_. Well, that’s…hm. Hm. Huhm. I’m—” She sniffled once, twice, before bursting into tears.

For a moment, no one moved. Hermione didn’t even _breathe_.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Molly, dear?”

Molly flapped her hands, her words incomprehensible through her sobs.

“ _Awk_ ward,” Sirius mumbled.

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Padfoot,” Remus gritted out.

Ginny craned her neck. “Mum?”

“I’m…I’m…” She sucked in a gasping breath and lifted her head. “I’m just so happy!”

Molly stood, crushing Bill and Fleur to her bosom in a ferocious hug before moving down the table to do the same to Tonks and Remus. She scurried across the room and gave Fred and George a whack upside each of their heads before clutching them to her, mumbling about how New York was too far away and Fred was out of his bleeding mind if he thought he could get married in Vegas.

Finally, Molly stopped in front of James, the edges of her smile faltering. James winced and Hermione squeezed his hand tighter.

“James,” Molly murmured. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”

James blinked. “I—what?”

Molly tutted. “You had to grow up so quickly, no offense, Harry, dear.”

Harry shrugged, looking unbothered.

“I’ve been telling you for ages you deserved to share your life with someone.” Molly’s eyes slid to Hermione. “And Hermione, you’ve always been mature. I could hardly expect you to wind up with someone your own age.”

Molly patted James’s cheek. “I’m happy for you both. A bit of a shock. But very happy.” Her smile flattened, eyes dipping down Hermione’s front before narrowing on her face. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You’re not pregnant, too, are you?”

She shook her head.

“Good. James here ought to make an honest woman out of you first.” Molly arched a brow at James in warning—or was that a hint? —before cocking her head. “You _do_ want to have more children, don’t you, James?”

Harry groaned and dropped his forehead to Ginny’s shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair, her whole body shaking with her laughter.

Cheeks pink, James sputtered out an awkward laugh and looked at her from the corner of his eye. His smile softened and his thumb stroked the back of her knuckles reverently. “Erm. One day. When the time’s right.”

Satisfied, Molly returned to her seat.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies erupted inside her, making it difficult to conceal her smile. She bit down on the edge of her lip and stared at their clasped fingers.

Beside Molly, Percy cleared his throat, sitting up straighter than he was already. “Seeing as everyone’s making announcements this evening, I suppose now would be a good time to tell you all I’ve quit my job at the Ministry. The Hobgoblins need a new bassist and well, I’ve never told anyone this, but I’m actually quite accomplished. I auditioned and—”

“Honestly, Percy.” Molly shook her head. “Be serious.”

Sirius opened his mouth, then waved his hand. “Nah. Not worth it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr as [inlovewithforever](https://inlovewithforever.tumblr.com/) . I have a few other one-shots and outtakes planned in this little universe, but if there's anything in particular you want to see, let me know!  
> 💙💙💙


	3. The Adventures of Padfoot and Prongslet, Panty PIs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little different! I received a request on Tumblr for an outtake of Harry and Sirius discovering James and Hermione the night they got together. This is the first bit of writing I've posted that isn't in Hermione's POV, so I hope you enjoy this departure from my norm! Without further ado, I present to you The Adventures of Padfoot and Prongslet, Panty PIs.

“I triple checked and no one’s upstairs.” Ron collapsed onto the sofa with a yawn. “You know how ’Mione gets. She probably just got tired of the party and went to bed. Wish I could, honestly.”

The last bit was grumbled under his breath.

“Really, Ron?” Harry crossed his arms and stared down his nose at his friend, doing a decent impression of Lily had she sipped some Polyjuice with a bit of James in the brew. Scary, actually. “You want to sleep at a time like this? Hermione’s _missing_.”

“ _Missing’s_ a bit… extreme, innit?” Ron reached for the hideous—but no doubt lovingly crafted—crocheted blanket folded over the back of the sofa, and tossed it over his legs. “Just ‘cause _we_ don’t know where she went off to, doesn’t mean something’s happened.”

Harry frowned. “Yeah, but what if something _has_ happened? She just disappeared. I’ve called her three times.”

Ron shrugged and dug his head into the arm of the couch, getting comfortable. “Maybe her portable fellytone’s just been _muffliato’d_.”

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose. It was pretty bad when Ron was acting as the voice of reason, even if his Gods-awful butchering of Muggle technology made Sirius cringe. Kid _really_ needed to get out and explore the world, and not just the magical bits of it. Like Honest Jon’s record shop in Notting Hill. Totally Muggle and it was, by far, the _most_ spellbinding place Sirius had ever stepped foot in, rivaled only by _Not_ -So-Honest Jon’s Motorbikes and Accessories in Shoreditch.

Eh… on second thought, maybe Ron should start small, somewhere with crossover appeal. Like the Spearmint Rhino. The neon knickers might be a bit of a shock, but Magical or Muggle, tits were tits. Although, there had been that dancer in Belfast who’d given Sirius a bit more than he’d bargained for with the—

“What about the rash of muggings up in Hereford? All at wand-point?” Harry ran his hands through his hair. “Someone wound up in St. Mungo’s in cardiac distress because of back-to-back stunners to the chest. What if Hermione—"

“I’m sure Hermione’s just fine, Harry,” Sirius gave him the same reassurance he had the first four times he’d asked that question. “She’s a formidable witch, kid. She can take care of herself. And she doesn’t even live near Hereford.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped, his expression collapsing beneath the strain of his concern. “But what—” His voice broke, making Sirius wince. Harry’s huffed, indignance and frustration a flimsy cover for his obviously frazzled nerves. The kid was fraying at both ends, coming completely undone and it was a bitch to watch. Even harder because there wasn’t much he could do. “She’s working for the DoM…you don’t think—”

“ _No_.” Sirius sighed. “If I’ve learned anything while working for the DMLE, it’s that the Department of Mysteries is the very definition of cloak and dagger. If the Unspeakables want someone gone, they obliviate them from the memory of anyone and everyone who’d go asking questions. Trust me, if they had a hand in this, you wouldn’t even _know_ a Hermione Granger, let alone miss her.”

Well, fuck him, it was supposed to be reassuring but Harry’s eyes practically fell out of his head. “ _Sirius_.”

“Harry.” Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Calm down. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Ron’s right.”

“Oi,” Ron said, looking bruised.

“I don’t have time to soothe your ego, lad. I _said_ you were right.” Sirius turned back to Harry. “She probably just made an Irish exit. Maybe she has better things to do.”

Like shag Sirius’s best mate, for example.

Hermione and James had been dancing around each other for _months_. He knew it. Remus knew it. His cousin knew it. Hell, twenty galleons said at least _one_ of the Weasleys had an inkling, if not a full-blown hunch. Morgana’s melons, the writing was on the fucking wall, the pheromones so heady when the two of them got within feet of each other that Sirius sprung wood just by breathing their air.

Obvious though it was, noble James hadn’t wanted to admit it, not even to himself. Only after he had been plied with half a bottle of Ogden’s finest had he drunkenly broken down and confessed to being hard-up—and just plain hard— for his son’s friend. Even with his head in the toilet, he’d still managed to castigate himself.

_“I think Merlin’s punishing me for something I did in another life.” James whinged. “Her_ bathing suit _, Pads. Fucking itty bitty bikini. Bows made of string. She wore the damn thing all day, pranced around my house in it. I wanted to peel it off with my teeth.” James whimpered. “She smells like sunshine, you know that? Sunshine and sugar quills and sin and I fucking bet she tastes just as sweet. I want to worship her. Throw myself at her feet, her humblest disciple.”_

_Sirius snorted. “Horniest, more like.”_

_James groaned. “Shite, I’m such a fucking pervert.”_

_Sirius leaned against the tub and kicked James’s thigh, cackling when James’s moan echoed inside the porcelain bowl. “Glad you’re finally admitting it.”_

_James lifted his head and flipped him the bird, his hand trembling and his face sallow and sweaty. “Some best mate you are. This is—this is a crisis and you’re laughing.”_

_“Hardly.”_

_“I am a dirty old man lusting after my son’s eighteen-year-old friend, a friend I have known since she was_ twelve _. What part of that fails to qualify as crisis-worthy?”_

_“Watch it,” Sirius wagged his finger. “You and I are the same age. Hardly my fault you went and got Lily up the duff at sixteen.”_

_James dry heaved into the bowl._

_Sirius leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder before returning to his place by the tub, a safe distance away from the splash zone. “You’re not old, you’re just…advanced. Worldly. A DILF. Chicks dig that sort of thing. You don’t need a map and a lit wand to find the clitoris like some bumbling, pimple-faced twat who thinks two pumps in a broom cupboard makes him a sex god. With you, there’s less awkward fumbling guaranteed, even if you haven’t gotten your wand wet in…remind me— how long’s it been?”_

_James grumbled something unintelligible and rested his forehead against the toilet seat._

_Sirius flicked his hair out of his eyes and cast a freshening spell, the second so far. He loved Prongs, dearly, but_ ew _. “Get a grip, man. You didn’t want her back then. You want her now, and look at that! She’s one-hundred percent legal in both worlds.”_

_“Barely.” James moaned, clutching the toilet._

_Sirius waggled his brows. “All the better.”_

_James lifted his head and aimed a startingly clear-eyed glare at him. “Watch it, Pads. She’s not some piece of arse. She’s…she’s…I_ like _her, okay?”_

_Bloody hell. James was honest to God smitten._

So smitten that Sirius hadn’t found it in him to tease him further. Not much, at least.

It didn’t change the fact that he _knew_. Even if James hadn’t drunkenly confessed, it was clear he had it _bad_ , worse than he’d ever had it for Lily. The way he watched Hermione was equal parts covetous and sweet, his stares as full of affection as they were brimming with lust. Like he wanted to shag her rotten then cuddle her something fierce.

Hermione wasn’t much better. Sirius had always had the impression she was a girl who knew what she wanted, and if he wasn’t mistaken—and he bloody well wasn’t— her sights were set unwaveringly on his best mate. Not that it was any sort of feat, but she did manage to do a better job of keeping her cool than Prongs, though her delightful blush said plenty.

The whole thing was adorable and frustrating and for crying out loud, they needed to just shag already. Perhaps it was part and parcel to his Animagus form, but like Pavlov’s dog, the mere mention of _Sunday dinner at Potter Manor_ made him chub up. Sirius couldn’t take much more of it.

“She’d say goodbye,” Harry argued. “It was _her_ birthday party.”

And thereby her prerogative to get laid.

Harry’s concern for his friend was touching, if not worryingly naïve. The kid needed to get his eyes checked, and not just because he was due a new pair of glasses. Maybe it was the result of Ginny having bollocks the size of a virile centaur’s—she’d made the first move, snogging Harry stupid after he caught the snitch and won the Quidditch Cup his fifth year— but Harry hadn’t ever really needed to hone his observational skills, not when it came to the fairer sex.

Sirius frowned. As Harry’s godfather, he had a duty. Yes, a _duty_. Knowledge was power, yada yada, and it was his responsibility to make sure Harry would never find himself in the dark about women or—okay, yeah, no. He _did_ have a duty but really, Sirius was tired of Harry failing to see what was right in front of him, so obvious it hurt. Making matters worse, he couldn’t actually _say_ anything because stupid Prongs had sworn him to secrecy. A drunken promise was still a promise.

But promises could be circumvented.

“You know”—Sirius leaned against the wall, nonchalant-like—"your dad’s missing, too.”

Harry slumped against the Weasleys’ fireplace and covered his face. “I _know_. If he were still here, he could help us look for her.”

Sirius shut his eyes.

How in Merlin’s name did Harry add two and two and wind up with _five_? For fuck’s sake.

He took a deep breath and smiled tightly at his Godson, who was usually rather bright. Matters of the heart—or dick, whatever, same difference— apparently turned him into a bit of a numpty. Same could be said for most wizards, so Sirius cut him some slack. “Don’t you think it’s a little _interesting_ that your dad and Hermione are _both_ missing?”

Sirius chanced a glance at Ron who was now snoring, none the wiser.

Harry chewed on that, nodding slowly. After a few seconds, his eyes went wide. Harry had _finally_ connected the dots.

“Sirius, are you suggesting they’re _both_ in some sort of trouble?”

Merlin’s saggy left testicle. This was above his paygrade as best friend _and_ as dogfather.

The backdoor opened and Bill and Remus stepped inside the living room.

“Property’s clear.” Bill shrugged. “No sign of Hermione anywhere. Wards did register apparition in the last hour, but it wasn’t her magical signature, it was your dad’s, Harry. If Hermione left, it was either by Floo, Portkey, or broom. Knowing her, I’m going to go ahead and nix that last one.”

Moony met his eyes across the room, one brow ticking higher.

They’d left separately then. Clever.

Sirius tried not to smirk. Rubbing it in that, in all likelihood, he was about to win the bet would be in poor taste. No one liked a braggart.

Ha, who the fuck was he kidding. He absolutely planned on gloating, as soon as his win was in the bag, but not a moment sooner. He wasn’t saying Remus would act the part of a cockblock just to win the bet, but he wasn’t _not_ saying it, either.

“Harry,” Sirius said. “You’re keyed into the wards at Hermione’s flat, right?”

Harry nodded.

“Why don’t we Floo on over?”

“You really think she might’ve just gone home?”

Not at all, but it would buy him— _them_ —a little more time. It had only been half an hour. The poor girl likely still had her knickers on.

“Won’t know ‘til we check, will we?”

As expected, a cursory search of Hermione’s flat turned up squat, save for a rather irate half-kneazle who demanded to be fed.

“What now, Pads?” Harry lifted his wand. “You think I should send my patronus?”

No, no, _no_. James’s dick would probably shrivel up and permanently lodge itself in his stomach if Harry’s patronus pranced in during the middle of their naked shenanigans. Poor Hermione deserved a better showing than that.

“No, but”—how to play this? —“humor me. Let’s check your house.”

Harry’s brows shot up. “My house?”

Sirius scratched his jaw. “She stays over sometimes, doesn’t she?”

“Well, yeah, but I hardly see why she’d—”

Sirius grabbed him by the shirt, tugging him into the Floo. “ _Humor me_.”

One flash of green flames later, Sirius stepped out of the fireplace, dusting off his robes.

“Sirius, I don’t know—”

He clapped a hand over Harry’s mouth. “Shh.”

Sirius cocked his head, straining to listen. It was quiet. _Too_ quiet.

His heart sank. What were the chances he was wrong? Fuck. He’d been so sure, sure that James was finally going to figure out his arse wasn’t a hat and—

His ears perked. There. Upstairs. He wasn’t sure, but that sounded suspiciously like a breathy sigh. A _feminine_ breathy sigh. Sirius was _very_ familiar with those, but if he wanted to be sure, he needed to get closer. “Wait here.”

He strode off in the direction of the stairs, footsteps faltering when Harry followed, hot on his heels. “Harry—”

“Do you think someone’s in the house?” Harry white-knuckled his wand.

Right, that’s exactly what they needed. Harry stunning first and asking questions later. Talk about coitus interruptus. James would never forgive Sirius, and Hermione…Merlin, she might just murder him.

“Maybe,” he hedged. “But you should let me check it out first.” A louder gasp verging on a moan drifted down the stairs. “Trust me.”

Harry scowled and ignored the directive, sidestepping him and sneaking toward the staircase.

Fucking rookie aurors. Welp. It was his funeral.

Harry made it halfway up the stairs before he froze. “What’s that?”

“What’s _what_?”

With his wand, Harry pointed two stairs up. “ _That_. It looks like—” His eyes widened. “Sirius, are those—they are. Those are _knickers_.”

Sure enough, a pretty pair of black knickers with bows on the sides lay forgotten. Talk about eager. Sirius chuckled. “Indeed, they are, Harry. Indeed, they are.”

The tips of Harry’s ears reddened as a sheepish smile split his face. “Huh. Well, good for him, I guess.”

_Thump, thump._ _“Oh, yes_. _Fuck_."

Sirius smirked. “Mm, yes. Music to my ears.”

Harry cringed. “Okay, now that’s just disgusting, Sirius.”

“No, _that,_ Harry, is the sound of me becoming twenty galleons richer.”

“What? I don’t even—you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. We should just—we should give him some privacy.” Harry frowned. “Hermione’s clearly not here. We should keep look—"

_"Who are you going to come for?"_

_“Fuck. Mr. Potter_. _”_

Sirius snickered. What a dirty dog. Who knew Prongs had it in him?

Harry blanched, his eyes flickering with recognition. “Is…is that—”

A pleasure-filled scream filled the air and Sirius mentally high-fived James. That’s how it was done.

Harry swayed on unsteady legs before plopping down on his arse on the stairs, looking like he’d—well, like he’d just heard his dad shagging his best mate.

“What the fuck? What the _actual_ fuck? _Hermione_? _My dad_?” Harry muttered, burying his face in his hands. “What—what— _why_? _When_? _How_?”

“How? Okay, Harry, when two people—or more. It can be three or four people, any more than that and you’ve got a lot of limbs to contend with so—”

“ _Sirius.”_ Harry lifted his head and glared.

He laughed. “Look on the bright side, Prongslet, Hermione is perfectly fine. You were worried for nothing. In fact, it sounds like she’s in _very_ good hands.”

Harry’s glare intensified, his green eyes narrowing further behind his glasses.

_“Hermione, fuck_. _”_

With a victory punch in the air, Sirius saluted his best mate’s stamina. “And end scene. Bravo mate, bravo.”

“Obliviate me.” Harry whimpered. “Put me out of my misery.”

He hauled Harry to his feet. “Sorry, kid, no can do. But if you drink enough, I’ve found the effect to be practically the same. So, how’s about we get some whisky in you, hmm?”

Sirius wasn’t in the habit of letting excellent opportunities for embarrassing Prongs pass him by, so as soon as Harry was down the stairs, around the corner, and out of sight, he snatched up Hermione’s knickers, tucking them in his robes for safekeeping.

Whistling a jaunty toon, he followed Harry into the kitchen and made a beeline for the cabinet beneath the sink where James hid the good stuff.

For him, it was a novel thought, but morning couldn’t come soon enough.


	4. Lily Evans (Or the Day Hermione Nearly Died of Mortification)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested on Tumblr, here's a little one-shot of Lily finding out about James and Hermione. In a word, awkward. 🙃

Magic made life easier, but by no means was it foolproof.

Granted, Hermione was no fool, and neither was James, but if she’d learned anything over the course of the last three months, it was that sex had the singular ability to make her as close to stupid as she’d ever be. James, too, for that matter. Whether it was having sex, wanting sex, thinking about the sex they’d had, or the brief— _brief_ —post-coital period of being utterly shagged out, sex made it difficult for either of them to think straight.

Or keep track of time.

The contraceptive charm, as Hermione had learned from several reputable sources including Madam Pomfrey, was effective for twelve hours once cast. Twelve hours of worry-free sex…as long as you managed to remember when it was you cast it.

This wasn’t usually a problem—doubling up on the charm didn’t render it ineffective—but after what was meant to be a quickie over the lunch hour turned into a marathon shagging session broken up by several restorative cat-naps, day bled into night and time sort of…ceased to exist. At least until the next morning. James had gone from adorably sleep-rumpled to wide-eyed and clearly trying—and failing—to remain calm and composed when Hermione had nudged him gently and asked if he remembered what time he cast the charm yesterday.

Having a baby at nineteen—or twenty, honestly, she still wasn’t sure thanks to her use of the time-turner—wasn’t high on Hermione’s list of priorities, but luckily, where magic failed, Muggle prevailed. After reassuring James that he wasn’t a total cad for forgetting when he, of all people, should’ve known better, and in turn, being reassured by him that if she were to get pregnant it wouldn’t be the end of the world and he’d support her no matter what, Hermione had made a quick trip to the chemist for a box of Plan B. Because, while James was right that a baby wouldn’t have been the end of the world, and although she _did_ want a family, she didn’t want one _now_.

With that little hiccough behind them, Hermione resolved to make that almost-accident their only accident. The charm was handy, certainly, and free, but it wasn’t without human error. The potion, on the other hand, was time-consuming to brew and not cheap to buy, but once ingested, it was effective at preventing pregnancy for a whole month. A decent trade-off, especially for anyone in a committed relationship having sex as frequently as her.

The bell above the door of The Apothecary jingled as James gestured for Hermione to step through. Once inside, James reached into the front pocket of his robes and withdrew a paper receipt with a shopping list scribbled on the back in his slanted handwriting. “Pepper-Up, Bruise Balm, Murtlap Essence, Pain-Relief Potion.” James lifted his head. “Can you think of anything else?”

“Harry gave Ron the last Sober-Up when he stayed over on Friday.”

“Of course, he did.” James rolled his eyes. “All right. I’ll snag these and meet you at the register?”

“I’ll grab the Bruise Balm. It’s closer to…” She trailed off, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder. “What I’m looking for.”

The Apothecary was organized alphabetically, A’s closest to the register—save for the Class X, regulated potions kept under stasis charms and wards— with B’s taking up most of the first wall of shelves, and C’s curving around to the back wall. James grazed a quick kiss across her forehead before turning to the right where the second half of the alphabet began. Hermione made her way to the left, fingertips grazing the wooden shelves as she scanned the labels. Baneberry Potion, Bezoars, Blemish Blitzer, Blood Replenisher, ah, there. Plucking a jar of Bruise Balm off the shelf, Hermione made off in search of the Contraceptive Potions, their primary reason for dropping by the Alley.

It was a wonder they weren’t kept closer to the front, like how certain Muggle chemists had started to stock condoms and emergency contraceptives in locked glass cases. She squinted at the price. Fifteen galleons for a month’s supply. Talk about highway robbery. It was certainly expensive enough to warrant anti-theft protection.

Grumbling softly under her breath at the indecency of charging that much for contraceptives—Sober-Up, by contrast, was _two_ galleons—Hermione grabbed the phial of raspberry-colored potion off the shelf and spun on her heel, immediately colliding with someone with enough force to send her sprawling backward onto her bum in the middle of the aisle.

“Oh my God, I am _so_ terribly sorry,” whoever it was that had knocked into her apologized. “I swear they stock the Chizpurfle carapace on the top shelf just to spite me. I completely lost my footing. Here let me just…”

That voice was awfully familiar.

Hermione lifted her head, eyes widening at the sight of auburn hair tumbling down around the shoulders and obscuring the face of the woman kneeling in front of her who was reaching for the Bruise Balm that had rolled across the aisle.

She didn’t need to see her face to know who it was.

Lily Evans.

It couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity before Lily raised her head, lips twisted in a contrite smile.

“Hermione!” Lily’s eyes lit up as she held out a hand to help Hermione stand. As soon as they were both upright, Lily pulled her into a hug that Hermione returned, albeit a bit stiffly because… _holy shit_.

“It’s so good to see you!” Lily drew back, grinning. “It’s been, what? Two years since I last saw you? You’re all grown up, I swear!”

Hermione’s smile felt twenty kinds of wrong, verging on a grimace as she chuckled awkwardly. “Right.”

_All grown up_.

Oh God.

“So.” Lily tucked her hair behind her ears and crossed her arms, leaning her shoulder against the endcap of the shelf. “How have you been? Catch me up. Harry mentioned you got a job at the Ministry but didn’t say much else. Then again, getting Harry to write consistently, let alone at any sort of length, has always been a bit like pulling teeth.”

Hermione didn’t have anything against Lily, only that she didn’t really _know_ Lily. Not like she knew Mrs. Weasley, or any of her friends’ parents, for that matter. James had always had primary custody of Harry—unspoken though that agreement had been—because Lily spent most of her time in Italy teaching Potions to mastery-level students.

Harry had spent the occasional holiday or summer on the continent, and every so often Lily would visit, staying with her parents in Cokeworth, but Hermione could count the number of interactions she’d had with Lily on one hand. Most of those had been in passing in either the Alley or at King’s Cross, save for the week-long trip she, Ron, and Ginny had taken with Harry to Rome over the summer holiday after fourth year. Lily had been kind and funny and warm, and it had been refreshing to converse with another Muggleborn witch who knew what it was like to walk with a foot in both worlds. But she still didn’t really _know_ Lily, definitely not enough to counteract the unique awkwardness of running into her older boyfriend’s ex and mother of his child, who happened to be her best friend.

All while buying a contraceptive potion so she could shag that boyfriend with abandon.

Hermione’s eyes darted to the floor where said phial of contraceptive lay abandoned. Regretfully, Lily’s eye followed.

“Thank God for shatterproof glass, right?” Lily bent at the waist to retrieve the phial.

Heat licked at the sides of her jaw and crept up her cheeks when Lily’s green eyes widened, reading the label. When a knowing—but not knowing enough—glint sparkled in Lily’s eyes, her lips pulling to the side in a sly smile, Hermione could’ve sworn her eyelids started to sweat from the wicked flush cooking her alive.

“Harry didn’t mention you were seeing anyone.” Lily passed her the phial. “It’s not Ron, is it?”

Merlin, God, someone, _anyone_ if they were merciful, they could open up the ground beneath her feet and put her out of her misery any moment now.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Erm, no. Not Ron.”

All she could think about, other than how obviously awkward this was, was how she’d given James a blowjob that morning and that he’d finished on her face. She’d obviously washed it off, but what if it had gotten in her hair? What if she was talking to Lily with James’s come just clinging to her curls? On a logical level, she knew that was unlikely, but _what if_?

Lily cocked her head, red hair spilling over her shoulder as she hummed. “Well, good for you. For being responsible, I mean.” Lily laughed. “Lord knows I love Harry and I wouldn’t change a thing, but the timing…” Lily sighed, her stare losing focus as she stared off over Hermione’s shoulder. After a moment, she coughed and shook her head, brilliant smile returning. “I’m glad you’re being responsible is all.”

Her skin was too tight, itchy all over. She scratched at the hollow of her throat, words failing her.

“It’s absurd,” Lily continued, nodding at the phial in Hermione’s hand. “How much they charge for it. The ingredients are all affordable, but because they know it takes so long to brew, most people can’t be arsed to do it themselves. They know they’ve got you’ve over the barrel.” Lily drew her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes narrowing in consideration. “You know, I’d be happy to brew it for you.”

“Oh.” Hermione shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you to do—”

“Nonsense.” Lily reached out, touching her fingers to the back of Hermione’s hand. “I’m offering. Now’s as good a time as any to tell you I’m moving back to England.” She grinned “Severus is taking a sabbatical for research, so Professor Dumbledore offered the teaching position to me. I start after the new year.”

Hermione blinked. “That’s—that’s great, Miss Evans.”

Lily threw her head back and laughed. “Oh God, _Miss Evans_. Hermione.” She wiped her eyes, still chuckling. “I think you’re old enough to call me Lily.”

She gave an awkward chuckle. “Right. Lily.”

“So.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll have loads of time to brew. I can whip up a big batch—the stuff is shelf-stable for at least a year—and you won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for a phial every month. Maybe just the cost of ingredients, if that works?”

The offer was kind, but she couldn’t accept. Not when Lily had no idea what exactly it was she was offering. “That’s so kind of you, but—”

“Hermione.” Lily squeezed her hand. “Woman to woman, I absolutely insist.”

She made a noise, somewhat of a cross between a hum and a groan. It sounded distressingly similar to the sound an Erumpent made when it was dying.

“Now,” Lily continued, clearly taking that terrible little groan as an affirmative. “Is it someone I know?”

“What?” Hermione shook her head. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck and ran between her shoulder blades.

Lily laughed. “Who is it you’re seeing? Do I know them?”

“Oh.” That’s what she thought Lily had asked. “It’s…erm, it’s—”

“There you are. They’re having a two for one sale on—” James’s footsteps faltered, his jaw dropping a little as he realized it wasn’t _just_ Hermione standing there.

“James!” Lily swept past Hermione, her sensible navy robes swirling behind her as she threw her arms around James and buffed her lips against his cheek in a quick kiss. “I seem to be running into everyone today.”

“Funny that.” James met her eyes over Lily’s shoulder, reflecting the nameless amalgamation of off-kilter shock and discomfort that had rendered her mute. It was a bit crass and not the most eloquent, but his silently mouthed, _what the fuck_ hit the nail on the head. _What the fuck_ , justly summed up this unique mortification.

“Indeed.” Lily stepped back, sweeping her hair over her shoulder as she smiled up at James. “I was just telling Hermione I’m moving back to England. I’ll be teaching at Hogwarts starting this January. Isn’t that wonderful?”

James nodded, a little too quickly. “That’s—that’s great, Lils. Harry’ll love that you’re closer.”

Lily craned her neck, peering around James. “Is Harry here?”

James shuffled the basket of potions from one hand to the other and scratched the side of his neck. “Harry? Oh. No. Harry’s not—” He coughed. “I don’t actually know where Harry is today.”

He shrugged, eyes flickering to Hermione’s in question.

“He’s with Ginny. They’re watching the Harpies play the Kestrels up in Kenmare,” she said.

James nodded. “Right. I forgot about that.”

Hermione fidgeted with the jar and phial in her hands and tried not to squirm too obviously as Lily’s eyes bounced between her and James, her gaze growing more curious by the second.

“So, you two are out doing some shopping?” She looked confused. “Together?” Lily’s smile flattened and froze, her eyes flickering from side to side as if running some complex mental computation. James shifted on his feet, inching a step closer to Hermione and maybe that was what it did, but suddenly Lily’s jaw dropped, her brows rocketing into her hairline. “Out shopping. You’re out shopping. _Together_. Shopping for—” Her eyes darted to the phial of contraceptive potion and lifted a hand to her mouth, pressing her fingers to her lips. “Oh my God.”

Anytime the floor wanted to open up and swallow her whole would be _lovely_.

James was apparently the only person holding on to the ability to string words together in a semi-coherent fashion. “Lily? Are you all right?”

She snorted, quickly clapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” She turned to Hermione. “I kept digging, asking you who you were seeing and—” She winced. “I must’ve made you so uncomfortable, how I kept _insisting_ on brewing for you and, _ugh_. God, I made this awkward, didn’t I?”

_Unbelievably_ awkward. “No,” Hermione croaked. “It’s fine. It’s—”

“You’re sweet.” Lily smiled. “And a _really_ shitty liar. I was wondering why you were practically turning purple because I hadn’t pegged you as a prude. This makes infinitely more sense.”

James’s brow furrowed. “Wait, insisting on brewing what for—” His eyes widened. “ _Oh_.”

“Right?” Lily nodded. “ _Awkward_.”

James stepped closer, dropping his hand to rest on the small of Hermione’s back. Lily’s eye followed the move, her head cocking thoughtfully. “Not exactly how I figured telling you would go, but”—he broke off, chuckling beneath his breath— “not as awkward as Sirius made it.”

Arguable. Sirius _had_ tossed her knickers on the kitchen table, in front of Harry no less, but was that more awkward than having Lily offer to brew her contraceptive potion so she could have worry-free sex with Lily’s ex-boyfriend, even if it was her ex-boyfriend of almost twenty years? A toss-up, truly.

“Sirius knows?” Lily’s brows rose. “I take it, Remus does, too, then?”

He wet his lips and nodded. “So does Harry.”

“Harry knows?” Lily gaped for a second before covering her cheeks with her hands. “Sorry, I just—” She shook her head. “You haven’t really dated anyone, James.”

James smiled down at Hermione with a look so adoring that embarrassment be damned, she melted. “I guess I hadn’t found the right person.”

“The right person,” Lily repeated. “And Harry knows. Okay. All right. Then I take it this is, for lack of a better word, _serious_?”

James dipped his chin. “Hermione moved in two weeks ago.”

Lily whistled. “Wow.” She laughed. “Plot twist. Sorry, I’m just a little… _shocked_.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “But I’m really happy for you. Both of you. I’m just processing. Wow. When did you, _this_ , happen? Is that weird for me to ask?” She shook her head. “I’m losing my sense of what’s awkward. The barometer’s broken. I think I broke it when I offered to brew Hermione’s contraceptive potion. God, I should probably quit saying that. Contraceptive potion. Shit. Okay, last one.”

James ducked his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Uh, I don’t know if it’s weird?” It was very weird, but Hermione was beginning to catch on that, as a general rule of thumb, her whole life was slightly strange. For God’s sake, she was a witch, after all. _That_ had pretty much skewed the scale indefinitely. “But it was Hermione’s birthday.”

Lily arched a brow.

“Her _nineteenth_ birthday,” James stressed, squirming slightly. “Merlin, quit looking at me like that, Lils.”

“Looking at you how exactly?” She smirked.

“I don’t know, like you think I’m some sort of”—James dropped his voice to a whisper— “cradle robber.”

“She _is_ the same age as our son.” Lily pinched her lips together giving Hermione the impression that she was trying not to laugh.

James pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“I’m only teasing. I know you’re the good sort, James.” Lily patted him on the arm. “So, Harry knows, Remus knows, Sirius knows. Am I the last person to find out?”

“Not quite.” He grimaced.

When Lily frowned, Hermione explained, “We still have to tell my parents. We’d have told them sooner, but they’re on a medical volunteer trip to Peru.”

Lily snickered at James. “Good luck with that.”

“Hey.” James scoffed. “Your parents love me.”

“Now they do,” Lily agreed. “But trust me when I say, at first, they _hated_ you.”

“They hated me?” James sounded a bit like he’d swallowed a squeaky toy. He coughed. “ _Hated_? That’s an awfully strong word.”

“Loathed.” Lily nodded. “Then again, the first real conversation you had with them involved explaining that you’d gotten me pregnant, so”—her eyes darted to phial in Hermione’s hand— “who knows? Maybe it won’t be so bad. They’re dentists, right?”

Hermione nodded.

“Brush your teeth. Teeth cleansing charms won’t pass muster, James,” Lily warned. “I mean it. Brush and floss, or else.”

James frowned. “Or else, _what_?”

Lily shrugged, meeting Hermione’s eye with a sly smile. “They’ll drill your teeth.”

“They’ll do _what_?” His eyes narrowed behind his lenses.

“Well, certainly. That’s what dentists do, don’t you know? They drill teeth. How’s the song go? _I thrill when I drill a bicuspid_?”

“What the bloody hell is a bicuspid?” James muttered.

“Oh yes,” Lily agreed. “ _Bloody_ hell is spot on.”

James paled.

Lily offered Hermione a shrug and a crooked grin. “So, look. I know it’s maybe a little…” She wrinkled her nose. “Weird? Unconventional? I don’t know and I don’t really care, but my offer for brewing stands. It’s only awkward if we make it awkward, right?”

She supposed it was true that perception did make reality. If she squinted and decided to take up being delusional and oblivious as hobbies, then sure, not awkward at all.

“Really, Hermione, it’s no imposition.”

Well, why not? If she was offering… “Sure. That would be great. I’d really appreciate it.”

“Perfect. I’ll owl it to you when it’s ready.” Lily smiled. “James?”

“Hmm?” He paused in running his tongue over his teeth behind his lips. “Yeah?”

She pointed at the top shelf. “Would you be a dear and pass me the Chizpurfle carapace?”

James snagged it off the top shelf and passed it her way.

“Thanks.” Lily took the jar of parasitic exoskeletons with a smile. “Well, I should get going and leave you two to your shopping. But”—Lily shifted, head waffling from side to side— “maybe we could all grab dinner sometime?”

“Sure.” James nodded. “And I’ll tell Harry the news about you and Hogwarts.”

“Great.” Lily backed away. “It was…equally as lovely as it was awkward to see you both.” She waved. “Good luck telling your parents.”

Lily turned the corner and Hermione slumped against James’s side with a groan.

James dropped his forehead against the top of her head. “Merlin. That was strange.”

_“So_ strange,” she agreed.

“But I think it went well,” he added.

She nodded.

She supposed it had, all in all, gone well. At least, it could’ve gone worse. Maybe it hadn’t been the most timely or graceful way to share the news, but objectively, it was a little funny. Or it would be, one day, far, _far_ in the future when she could look back on the moment without cringing.

Hermione lifted her head. “I don’t have anything in my hair, do I?”

His eyes made a quick pass over her before he shook his head. “No. Why?”

She smiled. “It’s nothing.”

After stopping by the register and dropping a whopping thirty galleons on potions—James insisted on paying for her contraceptive, much to her equal pleasure and frustration—they stepped out into the Alley.

“So.” James reached for her hand, tangling their fingers together. “What’s this about your parents drilling my teeth?”

“It was a joke.” She laughed. “There’s a Muggle musical, _Little Shop of Horrors_. The dentist is _quite_ the sadist and he—” James strangled her hand, making her sputter. “It’s a comedy. It’s funny. Really.”

“Sounds hilarious, Hermione,” he deadpanned.

“I mean it!” She leaned against him, squeezing his hand in both of hers. “Lily was just pulling your leg. My parents aren’t going to drill your teeth.” She paused. “They will probably try to inconspicuously look at them, and fail horribly at the inconspicuous part, but don’t take that personally. They look at everyone’s teeth. And your teeth are perfect, so.”

James smiled down at her, those perfect teeth biting his bottom lip and his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah?”

She sighed. It was criminal how charming he was, more so because he had no idea.

“Uh-huh.” She quickened her steps, forcing James to match her speed as she practically dragged him toward the Leaky.

“In a hurry to get home, love?” James’s smile was innocent, verging on _too_ innocent.

All right. Maybe he had a bit of clue as to his charms, after all.

She slowed her steps to a comical drag of her feet against the cobblestones, making James shake with laughter before he stepped in front of her and in a move so swift she hardly had time to squeak out a protest, reached for her waist, tossing her over his shoulder.

“ _Put me down_.” She poked his back, flushing violently when a group of women across the Alley began to whisper behind their hands. “People are staring.”

“Let them stare,” James said, but after only taking two more steps, he set her back onto her feet, his hands lingering on her waist, warmth from his palms soaking through her jumper as he smiled down at her, once more turning her insides to mush.

He leaned in, nose nudging hers gently, and brushed his mouth against hers once, twice, his lips curving when a soft sigh escaped her and she pressed closer, wanting more, stares be damned.

James drew her lower lip between his, his teeth scraping the swell of her flesh softly, enough to make her shiver. She expected his tongue to follow, but instead, he pressed a kiss to her bottom lip, then the top, and lastly the whole of her mouth, his grip on her waist tightening as he took a step back.

“Come on.” He reached for her hand and pressed a quick kiss to the inside of her palm before tugging her along. “Let’s go home.”

“ _In a hurry, love_?” she teased.

James stopped at the next corner and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Yes. This day has been long and stressful and weird and I want to go home. And when we get home, I want you to take your potion and then I think”—he nipped the tip of her ear— “I want you to call me, Mr. Potter.” James ghosted his lips over the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “How’s that sound?”

Perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am behind on replying to comments, but I wanted to get this out before the New Year! I hope you all enjoyed it, and as always, thank you for reading!


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